Mine (Dressing a Billionaire Book 3): A Romantic Comedy

by Jamie Lee Scott

  Mine (a Romantic Comedy)

  Dressing a Billionaire Book 3

  Jamie Lee Scott

  LBB Company

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Odd Man Out by Bonnie Paulson

  Odd Man Out

  Chapter 1

  LBB Company

  2395 320th St.

  Forest City, IA 50436

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination and nay resemblance to actual events or places or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Jamie Lee Scott

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, LBB Company, 2395 320th St., Forest City, IA 50436.

  LBB Company eBook October 2016

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

  Scott, Jamie Lee

  Mine / Jamie Lee Scott – LBB Company trade paperback edition.

  Pages ; cm. – (Dressing A Billionaire series ; 3)

  To Scot – for always being there,

  and for the years of support.

  You are my Hugo

  Chapter One

  Apparently, what happens in Vegas really does stay in Vegas. Feelings and all.

  Hugo sat in the car for more than a minute, silently staring out the windshield. Afraid to say anything to set him off, I stared at him and Kelsey alternately. When Kelsey stepped down off the porch, headed toward the car, I expected words, like, “Change of plans. Let’s get the hell out of here,” to start pouring from his mouth. Instead, he got out of the car, not even acknowledging me. Yes, he got out. Closed the door. Reopened it.

  “I won’t need you anymore tonight. Take the car home. I’ll call Timmy.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car, so I sat in the passenger seat and contemplated how best to climb over the console without impaling myself on something. I’m not exactly the most coordinated person on the planet. And being frozen in place didn’t help. I felt as if I’d been kicked in the teeth. And the gut. And the heart.

  Sitting in my bedroom, still completely stunned, I couldn’t even remember how I got to the driver side of the car or how I got home. All I could see, over and over, was the vision of Hugo walking up to Kelsey, and how she wrapped her arms around him in an all-encompassing hug. The kicker had been when he hugged her back and held on just a little too long.

  She wore a pale peach sleeveless sheath that hugged her lack of curves and slid up along her skin as her arms raised around Hugo’s neck. Ugh! One thing I had correct about her, the stick thin figure. But not bulimic thin, as I’d hoped. And in person, at least from the distance and through the windshield, her hair looked thick and lustrous. Her makeup so tasteful, no wonder people compared her to royalty.

  “Fuck royalty,” I screamed into my pillow. “I hate you, Hugo.” My heart broke the moment I saw Hugo hug her back. I knew my relationship with him had ended before it began. Not that there had been any promises. We had Vegas. Fuck Vegas, too!

  My mind worked overtime thinking I should’ve gotten him falling down drunk and married him in Sin City. A small ceremony where we’d hear, “By the power vested in me by the state of…” in the voice of the Elvis impersonator. But then again, being stupid rich, he could get an annulment, and I’d be left with a broken heart. I now knew the power Kelsey had. The power to draw Hugo back to her, and to wrap his arms around her. Why couldn’t a man love me that way?

  At least they didn’t kiss. Or I don’t think they did. I couldn’t help but look back one more time before I drove away, like that one last look at a car wreck or a train derailment. You just have to get that horrible impression imprinted on your brain. The last thing I saw, they walked away hand-in-hand back up to the porch. I didn’t stick around long enough to watch them walk into the house, the precious house that bitch didn’t deserve. After what she’d done to Hugo’s heart, she deserved a cardboard condo in downtown Dallas under a bridge. Princess, my ass; hobgoblin was more like it. Yes, hobgoblin. I couldn’t exactly call her a gold digger, since she and her family oozed money like a hobgoblin oozed stink.

  I took a deep breath; I couldn’t do this again so soon. I’d taken several deep breaths since Hugo got out of the driver seat of the SUV and left me there to fend for myself. He hadn’t even come around the passenger side to help me out of the car so I could switch seats. Like a moth to a flame, she mesmerized him. Any inkling of a thought of me vanished. The stab of pain I felt was worse than the shock I’d felt when I saw Miles humping Marla.

  I should be happy for Hugo. The love of his life had come back four years later and right when he’d been ready to finally move on. Did she know? Did she realize he’d stopped pining for her? The radar running on all cylinders. Did I just mix metaphors? Fuck it. I didn’t want him to be happy with her, I wanted him to be happy with me.

  I should be ashamed of myself for being so selfish. We weren’t in love. At least he wasn’t in love with me. Not sure I could say the same for myself. I looked deep inside and asked, Am I in love with Hugo, or who he is?

  I didn’t even think twice, I love the idea of him. Not the money, but him. His personality, the way he viewed the world, his work ethic, his Texas heritage, his early childhood, and how he moved forward from it and never looked back after becoming a Popovits. That he loved wholeheartedly. Even if his love for his childhood sweetheart couldn’t be overcome.

  Things were better this way, I couldn’t be second best. I’d always wonder if she came back, would I get kicked to the curb? Hadn’t I just been kicked to the curb by two people whom I was close to? There was my answer.

  What if we’d been more than just a couple of nights of mad sex in Vegas? What if we’d been making plans for a future together? And Kelsey showed up. I should be glad it happened before I could let this be more than great sex with my client. Because that’s all it had been, Hugo and I had had amazing sex.

  If nothing else, at least I’d been satiated beyond expectations. I closed my eyes and pictured him in the shower playing air guitar again. I felt the warmth at my core. He’d given me a vision to masturbate to. And I got some nice clothes and a handbag out of the deal. If all went well, he’d pay me for my time. No, not my time in his bed, but my time shopping for him, flying to Vegas and back, and the effort I put into getting him ready for the gala. Even if the gala had actually been a job interview of sorts, I should invoice him for all my time and effort.

  I shook it off. I didn’t care about the money. This whole thing reeked of my lack of self-discipline. I put my hands to my boobs and pushed them up and together like a great demi-bra. “We need some loving on a regular basis, but lovin’ that doesn’t have strings attached.” I felt a zing in my nipples as if they agreed with me.

  I let them go before the push up became a massage, whic
h led to me looking for my vibrator. I could so easily close my eyes and pretend I laid on a bed in the Aria Hotel and my vibrator felt like Hugo.

  And then good old Orlean sent me a text message. That dried up the wetness I’d felt from my short fantasy, like a blow dryer to the privates.

  I told you! The text contained a picture of Hugo and Kelsey in a car together. Hugo driving.

  I hadn’t even been home an hour, and they’d already made the gossip rags. I looked at the time on my phone. Three hours? Where had the time gone? Almost an hour from Hugo’s place to my house, I’d unpack the car, I cried into my pillow (not literally), shredded every ounce of self-respect and decency I’d mustered going over the last days in my head, and I’d avoided everyone in the house. How had that taken three hours?

  I needed Gwen. I pressed the button on my phone to tell Siri to call her. Wait. She’d gone to Germany, dammit. I didn’t want to run up her cell phone bill by calling her and I sure as shit wasn’t going to call Orlean. She seemed to revel in throwing it in my face that Hugo would never be mine. As she was doing that very second.

  Mine. As if a person belonged to someone else.

  I gave in and called Orlean. I needed to talk. Just talk, about anything, or nothing. Be a girl and talk.

  “Did you get my text?” She blurted by way of hello.

  “Do you troll the Internet for pictures of Hugo or what?” I snapped.

  Sheepishly, she said, “Your brother got me hooked on The Drape. It sends me emails with goings-on of Hollywood celebrities and gossip about rich people in and around Dallas and Houston, and sometimes Austin.”

  “Well, stop sending me photos of Hugo. I don’t need to know from you when I get the information first hand.” Again, snapper head.

  “Excuse the fuck out of me. I thought you wanted to know,” she huffed. “Besides, it’s not like you’re really interested in him, other than his style and his money. Maybe you’ll gain a new client in Kelsey.”

  “Fuck you,” I said. “I could give a shit about his money.” Truly offended by her words, I almost disconnected.

  Orlean giggled. “Hit a nerve? I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was, he is a paying client, you goofball.”

  I almost took back my “fuck you,” but I decided I owed her one or two anyway. “Whatever. I probably lost him as a client anyway. If he and Kelsey are back together, I doubt she’ll let me dress him.”

  “Screw dressing him, I’d want to undress them.”

  If only she knew. “He’s got quite the hot bod.”

  I could almost hear her mouth drop “You’ve seen Hugo naked?”

  “Honey, I dressed him. I don’t take measurements with their clothes on.”

  “Boxers or briefs?” She asked conspiratorially.

  Feigning horror, I said, “Orlean, you know I don’t measure and tell.”

  “What about his package?” she asked.

  “What about it?” I teased.

  “Does he dress right or left, and how much extra fabric is needed? He’d better need extra fabric.” Orlean knew enough about fashion to know each man has his own preference for pushing his package to the right or the left. “And don’t you dare tell me he tucks! I’ll die.”

  “No tucking. He’s not hiding that package from anyone. Besides, with what he has, he’d walk bull-legged.” Damn, I just measured and told.

  “Mercy me. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you measure him again. Yummy.” She swooned.

  “Orlean! He’s taken. Besides, like you said, we aren’t even in the same class. He’ll never consider either of us as anything more than a toy to be played with until Mrs. Right came along.”

  “A girl can dream,” Orlean whined. “Besides, I don’t want a relationship anyway.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you and Bruce called it quits. Sorry about that.” That might’ve been a lie. I wasn’t really sorry.

  She blew off that comment and asked, “Want to go get something to eat?”

  “It’s almost midnight,” I protested.

  “Since when did that ever stop us?”

  I got up off my bed and went into the bathroom to look at my face. I looked like a puffy marshmallow dipped in red food dye. I didn’t feel like putting on makeup or getting dressed up. I’d learned from the night I picked up Hugo at the gala, never to go out looking half-baked or the paparazzi will be there.

  “Rain check? It’s been a long day, and I just got back from several days in Vegas.”

  “What?” Orlean screamed into the phone.

  “You mean that wasn’t in The Drape?”

  “No, it wasn’t. Who did you go with? The new client?”

  I forgot I hadn’t told her anything about me and Hugo. That he fired me, and now we were fuck buddies. Or had been.

  “Hugo.”

  “Mic drop.” And then silence.

  “Orlean?” I’d wondered if she hung up on me.

  “You bitch, you didn’t even tell me. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” I could hear the humor in her voice, then she got quiet. “Oh, shit, you had sex, didn’t you? And then I sent you that picture.”

  My turn to be silent. Not because I didn’t want to answer, but because I didn’t know what to say.

  “Oh, sweetie, if I had known, I’d never have sent that text.”

  “Bullshit, yes, you would’ve.”

  Another giggle. “Fine, I would have, but with a different message. Something like, ‘That skanky slut, who does she think she is?’ or something like that.”

  I had to laugh. Leave it to Orlean to call a princess a skanky slut. I guess it wasn’t much different than me calling her a hobgoblin. Okay, maybe a little different.

  “Coffee, first thing in the morning, before you go to the Mart?” I wanted to hang up the phone and try to sleep.

  “First thing. I’m sorry about Kelsey and Hugo. And I want all of the gory details. Don’t tell me it was a business trip either, I know better. I can tell by the sound of your voice.”

  Chapter Two

  I left the volume up on my phone in case Hugo called or texted. I didn’t want to sleep through the call. Turned out it wouldn’t be a problem because not only did I not sleep, I also didn’t hear from Hugo. But then again, maybe he didn’t even think enough of me to explain himself. My gut churned. Or maybe he’d been in bed with Kelsey all night and didn’t have time to call or message.

  Something deep in my heart cracked a little. He’d completely forgotten about me as soon as Kelsey had reappeared. Suddenly nothing else mattered to him. Especially not me, the girl he’d romped with in Vegas, then left at the curb like a prostitute after getting a blow job.

  At seven-thirty in the morning my phone chirped, dragging me from my depression.

  “Maisy’s Studio.” I couldn’t even remember if that’s what I decided to call my business.

  “Hey, girlie, Bobby told me you and Hugo are back in town,” Stella’s cheerful voice came through the line.

  “We got back last night,” I said, trying to sound like I didn’t want to drown myself in a bubble bath full of self-pity.

  “Yeah, sorry we didn’t get together last night, but it was late wasn’t it?” She didn’t sound sorry.

  “Yup.”

  “So at what time do you want to see the office space? It’s still available for rent. Do I need to come and get you? Bobby said something about you needing a ride.”

  Her cheerful voice made me want to vomit. “I still have Hugo’s SUV. I need to get it back to him, though, so maybe I can meet you at his house and we can go into the city together.”

  Stella blew air through her lips like a raspberry. “Hugo has plenty of cars, so you keep the Mercedes until he sends one of his minions to pick it up. Besides, you put up with him for several days and that has to have earned you the car for at least a month.”

  I smiled is if she might see it. My face almost cracked from the change in my cheek position. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the city then.”
>
  “Do you know where the tower is?”

  “I’m sure I can find it. If I get lost, I’ll call you.” I had a hard time mustering any enthusiasm this morning.

  “I thought you’d be more excited,” Stella chirped.

  “I’m just tired. What time would you like to meet?”

  “Ten works for me. I have to stop in at the office and get some work done, then I can walk down the block and meet you there.” Her excitement enough for the both of us.

  “Ten it is, see you then.” I disconnected.

  Just when I thought I’d be done with the Popovits twins once again, Stella seemed to pop up when I least wanted it, her enthusiasm for life bringing me out of my funk. I really liked her, so why did she have to be Hugo’s sister? My stupid luck, I guess.

  I texted Orlean to let her know we could meet around eight-thirty.

  She message back that she couldn’t wait.

  Me either, I said to myself, lying.

  I really wanted to climb back in bed and try to go to sleep again. I wanted to forget the real world, the one I’d wanted so desperately to get back to. Suddenly I didn’t want to be here anymore. Like that wet dream, you’re almost there, then the annoying alarm clock goes off. You turn it off, and try frantically to get back to sleep, so you can finish the dream. I was awake, and my day had to begin whether I wanted it to or not.

  Why hadn’t I taken up Hugo on his offer to stay just a few more days in Vegas? Go to Celine Dion? We could’ve stayed forever. We’d be happy. Happy enough, pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist and that things would continue when we eventually returned to Texas. I wanted to sleep and pretend to still be in a comfy bed in the suites at Aria. I’d never be able to look at that hotel again without thinking about Hugo’s nakedness, his skin against mine, his kisses on my body. Him… inside… Never mind. I had no desire to ever go back to Vegas, even if shopping there was a stylist’s wet dream.